by Donna Fasano
"He wants to learn how to punt a football. He wants to challenge Eric to a race," she passionately explained. "He wants to climb trees. Joshua, Andy wants, with all his heart, to be a normal eight-year-old boy."
"But he's not a normal eight-year-old," Joshua pointedly observed.
"I know that. Andy knows that, too. We understand there must be restrictions." She braced herself, then looked directly into his eyes. "All he's asking is that the restrictions be... necessary."
"Necessary?" His gaze glinted with a sudden affront. "I can understand how you'd think I'm coddling my son. But every single one of those rules is necessary."
She was amazed that his glare didn't make her want to back down one bit. This needed to be said. "I'm not saying there should be no rules. What I'm trying to explain is that Andy's restrictions should be for Andy's benefit. Not yours."
His jaw muscle tensed.
She took his hand from where it rested on her shoulder and held it between both of hers. "Joshua, please don't be angry. I'm only trying to tell you something that Andy hasn't been able to. He loves you and he's afraid he'll disappoint you."
"Disappoint me?" His frown creased the skin directly between his eyes. "He could never disappoint me."
"He doesn't want you to be angry with him," she tried to explain further. "But he does want his life to change. Even a small change will be for the better. Right now he feels… well, he feels like a prisoner."
Joshua slipped his hand from hers and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He bowed his head, and Cassie knew he was digesting all that she had told him.
Finally, he heaved a sigh and stared out across the yard. "I thought I was protecting Andrew. But maybe I have been overdoing it."
She knew this was a momentous admission for him, so she reached out and placed her hand on his jacket sleeve, but remained silent.
"I do have good reason for being cautious." Joshua's quiet timbre was full of emotion. "You see, I… I let my wife die. There were signs. Signs I failed to see. Elizabeth died because I failed to protect her."
Cassie's heart swelled painfully with compassion. "Joshua, I don't know what happened to Elizabeth. But I've seen you with Andy. And Eric." And me, she thought, but prudently left that out. "You're a kind and caring man. I can't believe you would stand by and not do everything in your power to help your wife."
"I did nothing!" His voice turned suddenly and savagely self-critical. "I should have realized that a bottle of pain relieving tablets doesn't just disappear in a week. I should have realized something was wrong with her. She was hurting. In pain. And I did nothing."
"A whole bottle…?" Cassie could hear her own surprise and shock. "Did you ask her about it?"
"She told me she was having tension headaches," he said. "She assured me it was only stress. And the next time I asked, she put me off with some ridiculous story about having spilled the bottle of pills into the sink. A story I fell for. I was stupid–"
"Don't say that. It sounds as though Elizabeth was trying to protect you," Cassie offered. "Maybe she didn't want you to worry."
"No, she didn't want me to worry," he said. "But less than a week later the tumor in her brain caused her to have a seizure. She was driving at the time. The car went out of control and smashed into a tree." He hesitated a moment before adding, "She died instantly."
"Oh, Joshua," she said, sliding to the edge of the bench. Once again she reached out and took his hand between both of hers. "I'm so sorry."
"The damnedest thing is," he whispered hoarsely, "the tumor was operable. If I had gotten Liz to a doctor, her life could have been saved."
"How in the world did you find that out?"
"There was a routine autopsy." He shrugged. "And I requested a copy of the report."
Cassie didn't know what to say. The guilt he was living with was immense.
He turned his head to gaze at her. "So, now do you understand why I must protect Andrew?"
She wanted to take him in her arms. To soothe his pain and assuage the self-reproach he'd heaped upon himself like a heavy burden.
"Joshua, you didn't know that a tumor was growing in your wife's head," she said quietly. "If you had, you would have done everything you could for her." She squeezed his hand. "Andy isn't going to die." Then she corrected, "Well, he will... one day. We all have to die, of course. But trying to protect Andy from everything will only... smother the life out of him."
He leaned back to rest against the ornate wrought-iron seat and rubbed his free hand across his jaw.
"I don't know, Cassie," he said. "I just don't know."
"Andy has his whole life ahead of him," she persisted. "He has to be allowed to find out what things he can do and what things he can't. You need to let him explore his world." She shifted her weight. "He can start slow. He knows there are very specific things he must stay away from. Eggs and wheat. Cut grass. But with regard to physical exercise, playing and running and jumping, he needs to find out how much is too much."
He didn't speak, only looked at her with an intensity that told her he didn't like the ideas she was offering.
"Have I overstepped my bounds?" she asked.
For a long time she thought he wasn't going to answer. But then he shook his head.
"No," he said. "I realize that you're only concerned for Andrew. And I appreciate that." He inhaled slowly and withdrew his hand from hers. "And deep down inside, I know you're right. I don't like it. But everything you've said is true."
She felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment, but she only let a tiny smile of triumph touch her lips.
"I'll talk to him tomorrow," he said.
Her smile broadened. "He'll be so happy he'll be doing somersaults."
Joshua arched a brow at her choice of words and she laughed.
"Okay, okay," she told him. "Maybe not somersaults. Just yet, anyway."
She scooted back and stretched her bare feet out in front of her, reveling in a deep sense of satisfaction that seemed to swell inside her as though the emotion were warm water and she a dry sponge.
"Cassie?"
"Hmm?"
"Let's talk about what you're afraid of."
She thought her heart would stop beating right then. "Afraid?" she asked, fervently hoping her quavery tone didn't expose her feigned innocence. "What do I have to be afraid of?"
"Oh, Cassie, come on. We're both intelligent people."
She knew very well to what he was referring, just as well as she knew he was staring at her in the dark, but she refused to acknowledge the subject he broached or his steady gaze.
"It's late, Joshua," she said, darting a cursory glance at her watch. "I should go in."
His quelling hand on her wrist stopped her attempt to rise. The heat of him was like heaven.
"Cassie."
Steeling herself, she lifted her face to gaze at him. His dark eyes held a mixture of gentleness and entreaty that melted away her reserve.
"Please," he said, "talk to me."
"Joshua, I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know what you want from me–"
"Just talk to me," he said. "Is that too much to ask? Stop hiding from me. Spend some time with me. That's all I ask. Give this... spark... or attraction... or whatever it is we're feeling a chance. You know you feel it. It's right there. Glaring and bold. More flagrant than that big, fat moon up in the sky."
Yes, she felt it all right. And she hated this fear that gripped her so tightly– this fear that battled fiercely with her desire to be with him, to talk to him, to listen to him.
Slowly she turned to him, knowing she must respond, yet scared witless that she'd reveal too much. Silently she sent a quick prayer heavenward for the strength to tell him how she was feeling and for the control that would keep her from going too far.
"Joshua..." She hesitated long enough to take a deep breath. "I told you before that I can't deny that there's something there. Between us, I mean."
She felt flustered,
all hot and cold at the same time, sitting here in the romantic moonlight under a canopy of brilliant stars. How could she admit in one breath that she felt something for him and then turn right around and tell him she had no intention of responding to those feelings? She didn't know, but she had to do it. She just had to.
"I simply can't... allow myself to react to it."
His eyes were so intense they nearly swallowed her up.
"But why?" he asked. "Tell me why you don't want to–"
"I didn't say I didn't want to." Heat suffused her face as she made the impetuous statement. "I said," she went on, her voice barely a whisper, "that I can't. I do have some natural... urges... where you're concerned. But that doesn't mean I have to give in to them."
It was his turn to hesitate. Then he once again asked simply, "Why?"
"You know why." She didn't trust herself to say anything more, so she merely sat there and silently watched him watching her.
"I'd never do anything to hurt you," he said. "I mean, if you've been hurt in the past and you're afraid that I'd..."
She let him know he was on the wrong track by closing her eyes and shaking her head firmly.
"Well, whatever your fear, we can work it out–"
"No, we can't," she said adamantly. "Just like there are rules for Andy, there have to be rules for us. I work for you. Intimacy between us would surely… complicate that."
"I don't want complications, either." His tone was grave. "I just want... I just..."
Cassie couldn't stand it, she had to ask. "You just want what?"
"I want to spend some time with you," he said. "No strings attached. And with no expectations of any kind." Then his fingers tightened on her wrist. "I've been invited to a cocktail party Saturday night. Go with me."
She couldn't seem to respond. She knew she should refuse him flat out. But part of her wanted this. A part of her wanted to be with him. Badly.
Her inhalation was shaky, and confusion rocked her to her very foundation. Maybe, she thought, if she understood this spark or attraction or whatever it was that was drawing them together so strongly, then she could deal with it a little less emotionally.
"I need to ask you something." The words had escaped her in an impulsive moment.
"Okay." He released his grip on her and rested his elbow behind her on the back of the bench.
She could hardly believe she was about to ask him the question that had been nagging at her since The Experiment had occurred.
"The other evening out at the pool," she began, "you said that you had never wanted a woman the way you want me. I wondered how that could be when you were married? What about... Elizabeth? Didn't you want your wife? Didn't you… desire her the same way you… you know…" She let the rest of the sentence trail off, mortified by her audacity to ask him such a deeply personal question. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
"Don't be."
He was quiet for a long moment, a moment during which she thought she read several emotions pass across his dark eyes: sadness, regret, and a twinge of guilt. Knowing that she'd precipitated the recall of these obviously troubling feelings in him made her truly regret having raised the issue.
Finally he tilted his head to one side and smiled tenderly. "You're right, I did say that. And I meant it."
She didn't want to feel it and knew in fact that she shouldn't, but his words, his tone, the look in his gaze, filled her with a sense of pure toe-tingling joy.
"Let me tell you about my marriage to Elizabeth," he said.
"Oh, wait." she rushed to say, lifting her hand, palm out. "That wasn't what I was suggesting. I shouldn't have asked. It was rude of me, Joshua, and I apologize. Really. Your marriage, your relationship with your wife, none of that is any of my business."
"Cassie, it's okay. I want to tell you."
His candid tone melted her sudden flare of apprehension, and it was gone almost before she felt it.
Once more he gazed off over the yard and contemplated his thoughts for a few seconds before he spoke. Cassie took that time to surreptitiously survey him.
So late in the day, his jaw was shadowed by a new growth of stubble. It gave him a rugged look, and she wanted desperately to reach out and smooth her fingertips across his cheek.
Just then he reached up and rubbed his jaw, and her eyes became riveted to his hand. She was surprised by the tanned strength of it, especially when she knew, as a university professor, he must perform very little manual labor. His fingers were long and lean, and she remembered how wonderful it had felt as they'd touched her face.
"There was never a time–"
She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, and realized just how engrossed she'd become in merely looking at him.
"–when I don't remember having Elizabeth be a part of my life," he said. "You see, our parents were the best of friends." He inhaled, slowly, deeply. "Elizabeth and I grew up together. We learned to ride bikes together, we went to grade school together. Both of us were introverts. Bookish. Geeky, I guess some people would say. Definitely outcasts."
He hesitated over the adjectives and the last word was accompanied by a frown. Cassie felt an overwhelming desire to smooth away the tiny creases between his thick-lashed eyes.
"We were such good friends, Liz and I," he said. "We continued on through college together. We graduated. Found jobs." One of his shoulders rose in a small shrug. "It seemed only logical at the time for us to get married. We had sex. Sure. People who are together do. But there was never any real… passion between us. Not that we thought much about that. You don't really miss what you never had. Our relationship was sensible. Like I said… logical."
"Is everything you do logical?" she asked.
He chuckled suddenly. "If I think back over my life, it certainly seems that way."
She remembered the loving relationship her own parents had shared, and how her mother had pined so for her father after he'd died. Was it possible for a woman to love a man so much that she couldn't live without him? She knew from watching her mother die from grief that the answer to that question was yes.
Absorbed in her own painful memories now, she didn't see the meditative expression with which Joshua studied her.
"But this..." he muttered, breaking into her musings by gently touching her hair. "This is anything but logical."
Cassie instantly realized that the this he was referring to was the attraction that thrummed between them. She knew she should jump up and run into the house, run from the magnetic pull that urged her to lean against the palm of his hand that was so softly stroking the strands of her hair.
Heeding that silent voice of warning in her head, she did stand up. But she didn't run. Not only didn't she run, she found herself saying the most outrageous thing.
"Well, then, logic be damned," she blurted. "I'd love to go to the party with you."
Chapter Seven
Saturday morning dawned bright, clear, and warm. After a quick shower, Cassie dressed in a white sleeveless blouse, a short denim skirt, and white canvas sneakers. Her spirits were soaring as she trotted downstairs to the kitchen to fix breakfast.
Today was full of big plans. First Joshua was planning to take her and the boys to the mall, and then tonight...
Tonight Cassie would be spending the evening with Joshua. A real, live date, she thought, pulling from the refrigerator a carton of orange juice, one of milk, several large apples and a bunch of plump, juicy grapes. The very idea of a date with Joshua made her giddy with nerves.
But if the two of you become too involved–
Cassie shut out the silent, ominous echo, just as she'd successfully shut it out for the past few days. She simply closed her eyes and remembered his words. Whatever your fear, we can work it out. She let his promise smother her doubts about going to the party with him.
As she arranged the fruit on a platter, she let the memory of his words take her, yet again, into the realm of fantasy– a sunny, cheerful world where Joshua never hesitated to kis
s her: on the shoulder, the neck, the lips. A world where she could feel free to run her fingers through his hair or rub his back after he'd had a long, hard day in the laboratory. A dreamy existence where she fixed breakfast, not for the professor, his son, and her brother, but for her family.
This was a fantasy that had been ruminating in her head ever since the night Joshua had asked her to go to the party. Something had happened to her that night. Some sort of wild abandon had taken over her rational senses, and her flight of fancy had just taken off. Soared, really. Her imagination had slowly but intricately built the idea, and with each passing day, it had become more involved, more detailed.
Oh, she realized it for what it was– pure and unadulterated illusion. But did it hurt to ask herself, what if? What if she could keep her past from Joshua? What if he wanted her so much that he never thought to ask her silly questions about her background?
He wanted her, of that she was certain. And the idea alone thrilled her beyond measure. She made a trip to the dining room table with glasses and drinks and then went back into the kitchen, refusing to think about what tomorrow might bring. She didn't want to think beyond tonight. Tonight would be... wonderful.
"Good morning."
Cassie glanced toward the doorway and saw Joshua standing there.
"Hi," she said, noticing how his green knit shirt hugged his broad chest. His beige twill shorts showed off lean, muscular calves. He looked so different, so outdoorsy in these casual clothes.
He came across the kitchen, pulled a grape from the cluster and popped it into his mouth. She busied herself with slicing the bagels and lining them up on the broiling pan, but she didn't fail to notice the intense, vibrant energy that pulsated in the room now that he was there.
He leaned his hip against the counter and asked, "So, is the shopping trip still on this morning?"
"Oh, yes," she said. She opened the oven door and popped the bagels under the broiler. "The boys were so excited last night, they could hardly get to sleep."
"I'm sorry I was so late coming in last night," he said. "I had to finish up a few things in the lab so that I'd have this morning free. I'll have to go in for a couple of hours this afternoon, but this morning belongs to you, Andrew, and Eric."
